


i love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?)

by jbhmalum



Series: angsty love triangle 'verse [2]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends With Benefits, Lots of it, M/M, Making Out, Mentions of alcohol, kind of?, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, well Luke is drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:41:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: Before he has time to grasp what he's getting himself into he nods, finding himself with a lapful of Luke in a second, both hands tilting his head up and lips crashing against his passionately, and who knows who the pain he’s feeling belongs to anymore. Luke's, his, it's all blending together into this ugly, raw mess inside of him.*In which Michael is in love with Luke. Luke is also in love, but not with Michael.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Luke Hemmings, Past Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Series: angsty love triangle 'verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1967101
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	i love you (ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?)

**Author's Note:**

> here is the second part to [this](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25882315), which i highly recommend reading first if you haven't already as it's a direct continuation of it. (i mean i would also suggest reading the two back to back anyway as they really work well together, but obviously you don't have to if you've already read it!!)
> 
> thanks everyone who has read that first part i'm glad it was so well received!

_“I just- I thought- I'm still in love with you.”_

Michael stops with his hand on the door handle at that, breath catching in his throat and refusing to go down to his lungs as the words start ringing in his head. This party was starting to make him feel anxious and overwhelmed, everyone getting more and more drunk by the hour, making it impossible to have a conversation with any of them and making his own head spin a little. He needed to get away for a while, be on his own and make his ears stop ringing from the pounding music. Being the only sober person at a party is never fun, anyway. He knew that beforehand, but Luke had asked if he could go with him, so Michael went.

Luke, who got as drunk as the rest of the people in this house before disappearing an hour ago, leaving him all alone. Luke who's now locked in the bathroom Michael was intending to hide in, confessing his love for his ex. _To_ his ex. Michael's heart squeezes painfully in his chest, squeezes and squeezes tighter until it feels like it's going to explode, right here in the hallway of this house filled with strangers, and he brings a hand to his chest, rubbing there as if he could just scrape off the pain.

The words haven’t stopped ringing, playing on a loop like a broken record even as Luke continues talking softly. _Still in love with you_. Michael can’t escape them, feels them wrapping themselves around his heart and Michael thinks _this is it, it can’t possibly get worse,_ before they find the crack in the tissue, seeping in and spreading in his veins like poison and god, it _hurts_.

He tries to calm himself down as Luke cries but mostly falls silent on the other side of the door, because he shouldn't be so affected by this. He should have known not to fall for the boy who only ever insists they fall into bed together if the lights are off, who sometimes whispers a name that isn't Michael's but that he still knows too well in the throes of pleasure. Michael should have known, and maybe he did, but in the end the heart always wins, and he’d gotten his hopes up and his guard down.

There's nothing but silence for a moment, just the mindless hubbub from downstairs and the sound of Michael's heart thudding in his ears, loud and disonnent as Luke finally hangs up. Or maybe he doesn’t hang up, maybe _Ashton_ is talking endlessly on the other side of the line, maybe he's realizing how much he loves Luke, too, and he's telling him how much right this instant. 

Michael shakes his head. It's probably not what's happening. It didn't sound like Luke was being waxed poetry to. He should go. No matter how much his heart is crumbling to pieces right now, it wasn't fair of him to eavesdrop. Luke deserves his privacy, and Michael needs to get out of here. It'll be better for the both of them if he leaves right now, never speaks about this, ever. And they don't sleep together that often, anyway, it wouldn't be weird if Michael just… stopped without an explanation. Right? Because he needs to put an end to this or it’s going to tear him apart.

Regretfully he starts to turn around, resigned to going back to hiding in the kitchen until Luke deigns to come out and he can drive them both back to their respective homes. He's barely taken a step towards safety when he hears it, a faint but gut wrenching sob from the bathroom, tearing at Michael's resolve. No matter how much he's hurting, he can't stand to leave Luke broken and in pain, especially with how drunk he must be.

With one last sigh, he turns back around, knocks on the door.

“Luke? It's Michael. Are you in there?” 

There's no answer, just a barely concealed sob again, and Michael won't cry, he won't. It's unfair that Luke is breaking his heart yet he's the one who has to put Luke's own pieces back together. He doesn't have to, except he does. Luke doesn't really have anybody else, and from what Michael has seen, he isn’t good at taking care of himself.

“Luke, can I open the door?” 

Luke still remains silent, and Michael waits, a minute, two, but then comes to the conclusion that Luke won’t answer him and turns the doorknob. Thankfully it's not locked, and the door opens to reveal Luke sat on the floor in the half lit room, head leaning against the cabinet. Michael can barely make out the tear tracks on his cheeks, hiccups breaking out of his throat as he clenches his phone so hard Michael is scared it's going to break. It's the least of his problems, though, because Luke isn't looking at him, pointedly ignoring him. Michael tries not to feel hurt. This isn’t about him.

As gently as he can he sits down next to Luke, close enough to feel Luke's heat and smell the tequila in his breath, but not close enough to touch. Or, well. They could touch, if either of them reached out just a bit, but Luke most likely doesn't want to, and Michael won't. He needs to keep his distance, keep himself safe. It's not Luke's fault, and it hurts to think that he’ll have to stop touching Luke forever, but it will be better that way.

He can only watch as Luke makes tiny little hurt sounds every now and again, closing his eyes when Michael calls his name again. He doesn't really know what to say. Luke doesn't want to talk to him, and chances are he just doesn't want to talk to _anyone_ after getting his heart broken, or whatever the hell happened, but it still hurts Michael's feelings. Feelings which he should ignore the way Luke's ignoring him right row. But he doesn't know how to do that just yet, so instead he waits patiently as Luke's sobs turn to nothing more than small hiccups and his grip on his phone slackens, the device falling to the ground softly.

Michael tries not to look at Luke out of respect, but he can't help it, he's drawn to him. His eyes have adjusted to the low lighting by now, Luke's profile as clear as day. His hair is getting longer, but he always keeps it behind his ear, allowing Michael to see his face, high cheekbone and sharp jawline that he's kissed and nibbled on way too often. His neck, exposed and glistening from sweat, that Michael knows all too well. The vibrantly red silk shirt on Luke’s broad frame that looks strikingly out of place with the desolate aura around him. Michael wants to strip him out of it and hide him in one of the too big sweatshirts sitting forgotten at the bottom of Michael’s drawer, just waiting for someone to wear them.

Shit. This is exactly the kind of thought he can’t be having anymore. Not that he should have ever had them in the first place.

“Michael?” Luke asks softly, almost making Michael jump as he shakes him out of his thoughts.

“What?”

Luke turns his face to him finally, angling his whole body towards him in the process. His red-rimmed eyes are looking straight into Michael's, full of pain and confusion, a slight frown on his face.

“Did I make a mistake?”

It's Michael's turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

“When I left Ash,” Luke starts, lip trembling slightly and eyes becoming more wet, “I was stupid, I let him go without an explanation and when I realized he was the best thing to ever happen to me it was already too late.”

He _sounds_ drunk, Michael realizes, but what he’s saying couldn’t be any clearer, and another piece of Michael's heart tears. He doesn't know how much more he can take in one night before the wound gets too big and he breaks down, too. He doesn't say anything, not trusting his voice to not give him away, waits for Luke to go on.

“I don't know why I thought he'd still love me. He has a boyfriend now, and he's in love with _him_ , can you believe that?” he slurs before letting out a humourless chuckle. “I believe it. Ashton is so amazing, Mike, he's so smart and kind and fucking hot and he would get me off so fucking good, like, the best I ever had. Of course he found someone new. Probably had every guy at his feet, too, and I only have myself to blame.”

Luke rambles on, and Michael lets him, even if he wants nothing but to shut him up. He doesn't want to hear this, it's making his throat close up more than it already is, the Ashton-knife in his heart twisting repeatedly with every word of praise Luke utters for this guy Michael can never compete with. He doesn't even have it in him to feel insulted that Luke basically told him he got more pleasure from Ashton than he does from him, even though it's the only thing Luke has ever taken from him. Pleasure, over and over, in the dark of Luke's bedroom or in a random room at a party just like this one. 

“I can't believe I just made a fool of myself like this, I’m so fucking _stupid_ ,” Luke says, voice unsteady all of a sudden, hand flying to Michael's knee and gripping hard, holding onto him like a lifeline. Michael's body tenses up, and he fights the urge to close his eyes shut as Luke stares into them, sad and desperate. He swore he wouldn't touch. He wasn't going to, but Luke beat him to it, caught him off guard, and he doesn't know what to do. Because he knows what's coming, but he doesn't think he's strong enough to run from the tidal wave before it eats him up, only to spit him out when there's nothing left of him.

“Mike, please,” Luke whispers, anguish clear in his voice, tears spilling over. “I need to forget. Please make me forget. I need you.”

His eyes are huge, and he's getting closer to Michael with every word until they're merely a few inches apart. The foul smell of tequila hits Michael full force as he feels their breaths ghosting over each other's mouths, Luke's grip on his knee getting tighter as he brings his other trembling hand to Michael's jaw, delicate in a way Luke never is with him. Michael's breath stutters in his throat for the umpteenth time tonight, struggling to swallow past the lump in his throat and the desire climbing up his insides as the air around them grows thicker, making it hard to breathe and think.

There's nothing new here. Maybe there's a bit more light than there usually is, but it's dark enough, and they've kissed before, they've been this close to each other, closer even as they came together to make one. Except everything feels different, and it's soul crushing, sitting here and craving the taste of Luke's lips when he knows Luke is in love with someone that isn’t him. But Michael is dumb and he’s in love and Luke is unspeakably sad and Michael is _in love,_ god fucking damnit, and he can’t just flip it off now that he’s faced with the undebatable fact that it’s unrequited.

“Michael,” Luke slurs against his lips, eyes looking up at him, and even from this close, all blurry and fading out of focus, they're mesmerizing. “I'm begging you, please. Fill me up the way he won't.”

“Luke…” Michael warns in a breath as Luke's hand slides from his knee to the inside of his thigh, way too close to his crotch.

Michael lets out a whine at the same time he feels the remaining pieces of his heart fall apart at Luke's words, because here’s his confirmation. He's just a placeholder, a second choice. He wants to say no. He should refuse, drive Luke back to his place to deal with drinking too much on his own. He's never been able to say no before, but he didn’t have to before, did he? But he really shouldn't do that right now, not when Luke's mind is clearly somewhere else. He says he wants to forget, but he won't. Michael shudders, heart and body out of sync with his brain. It's just going to break him apart at the seams, impossible to sew back up without leaving tiny little holes everywhere, too easy to rip out again at the slightest pull. But Luke's filling up all of his senses, and his red eyes are pleading desperately, and he looks like he's broken, too. _Just tonight,_ Michael tells himself. _We can be broken together tonight_. It doesn't matter if Michael doesn't have anybody to put him back together. 

Before he has time to grasp what he's getting himself into he nods, finding himself with a lapful of Luke in a second, both hands tilting his head up and lips crashing against his passionately, and who knows who the pain he’s feeling belongs to anymore. Luke's, his, it's all blending together into this ugly, raw mess inside of him.

Michael can't help it, melts into the kiss instantly, giving back as much as he can, bringing his hands to Luke's hips and refraining from rubbing small circles with his thumbs where Luke’s top is riding up his torso. It's a bit uncomfortable here, the handle of the cabinet poking into his back and his ass hurting on the tiles, but he doesn't complain, too entranced by Luke's lips and Luke's fingertips gliding over the nape of his neck and Luke's heated body above his.

It feels falsely familiar for a second, but it's not. The energy flowing through Luke and wrapping itself around Michael is too despondent and anxious for it to be casual and fun like it usually is, Luke's movements out of control and uncoordinated. Because he's too drunk or because he can't get to Michael fast enough, there's no telling which one it is. Either way it doesn't feel like Luke is forgetting anything even as Michael slides his lips down to where his jaw meets his neck, sucking on the skin playfully. It's usually the best way to work Luke up, get him all hot and vocal, but he barely lets out a small whine next to Michael's ear, and something doesn't feel quite right.

Maybe Michael's too in his own head and he's not doing it right. That wouldn't be fair, he agreed to make Luke forget, it shouldn’t matter if it hurts him in the process. So he grips Luke's hips tighter, sucks at the skin of Luke's neck harder, putting his everything into it, into Luke and getting Luke to feel better, even if it's nothing but a temporary fix. But then he snakes his arms around Luke's waist, brings him closer to him until he's flush against Michael’s stomach, but Luke isn't even a bit hard, and that's not a very good sign. It's then that Michael notices Luke shaking against him. From his hands, gripping Michael’s shirt at the back of his neck, to his thighs, bracketing Michael’s tensely.

“Luke, wait,” Michael whispers as he tries to push him away, but Luke is clinging to him, arms wrapping around his neck and hands clutching his shoulders. “Luke, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“No, I wanna forget, you said you’d make me forget,” he cries into Michael’s neck, tears falling onto Michael’s skin suddenly. Michael stops pushing him away then, strokes his back instead. 

“I know, I’m sorry. But I don’t think it’s working, and you’re not even enjoying this. I don’t wanna do this with you if you’re not having fun.”

“Please don’t let go,” Luke pleads softly, strangled. His grip on Michael’s shoulders tightens.

“I won’t. I won’t let go.”

Michael can feel Luke’s whole body sagging against him then as Luke breaks down into sobs once more, hanging onto Michael for dear life. Holding back his own tears — he doesn’t know if they’d be for himself or for the boy in his arms — he hugs Luke back, taking the time to let his guard down. He puts all the love he has for Luke in this embrace, because he needs to let it out in some way, and because Luke needs it. And so they remain like that for god knows how long, Luke having no idea that Michael’s clinging to him just as much as he is, taking a piece of what he can never have, until Luke’s shaking has receded to a barely discernible tremble.

When Michael pushes him back this time so that he can look at him properly, he doesn’t resist.

The way Luke rubs at his eyes with the tip of his sleeves, wiping the wetness off his cheeks and looking small and lost, has Michael’s heart swelling with a different kind of sadness. He’s reminded of how young and fragile Luke really is, a far cry from the confident and loud person he appears to be in broad daylight. He’s reminded why he feels so protective of Luke, why he can’t stand to watch the pain tear at his face.

“I’m going to take you home, alright? Let you sleep it off.”

Luke nods, fiddling with his sleeves until they’re covering his hands entirely, shrinking into himself right here on Michael’s lap. He’s most likely not, but he looks sobered up, the overload of sadness having taken its toll on him. When Michael motions for him to get up he does so without too much trouble, but he still leans on Michael as soon as he’s up beside him, throwing his arms around his middle. It’s weird, and Luke is never this touchy-feely, at least not with him, and it makes butterflies fly in Michael’s stomach which he tries to tame quickly.

This doesn’t mean anything. Luke is in love with _Ashton_ , and Luke is drunk and sad and lonely. Michael’s heart needs to calm down.

He doesn’t push Luke away, because what’s the point, and he helps him out of this house and into Michael’s car in silence, leaving this cursed party behind. The drive to Luke’s apartment flies by quickly enough, Michael spending the seven minutes it takes to get there fiddling with the radio channels while trying to ignore Luke’s sniffing beside him. He makes a quick affair of getting Luke into night clothes and making him drink an entire water bottle once they're inside, thinking he’ll be out of here in no time.

But apparently Luke gets other ideas as Michael is tucking him in. Which was a stupid thing to even do. Luke would have fallen asleep just fine getting into bed on his own. Michael chuckles to himself sourly. If only he would ever believe that to be true.

“Stay with me?” Luke whispers just as Michael is about to get up, and Michael freezes on the spot.

“Luke, it’s not-” 

“Just to sleep. Please. I don’t w’nna be alone.”

For his own well being Michael should say no, make up something about how he has to be up early in the morning and leave, never set foot in Luke’s house after midnight ever again. He’s already gone too far, if he keeps this up there won’t be much of his sanity left soon. But Luke looks so sweet and young with the covers up to his chin, half asleep already with a streak of loneliness in his half-lidded eyes, now dry though still too red. And how could Michael possibly say no to that face?

He doesn’t say anything, just turns the light off before taking off his shoes and sliding under the covers next to Luke. He intends to keep his distance, because they’ve never slept in the same bed without having slept together beforehand, and he doesn’t know what’s okay and what’s not. But apparently drunk and sad Luke is clingy as all hell because before Michael has time to even settle properly Luke cuddles up to him, his head finding its place on Michael’s shoulder and his arm around Michael’s middle, somehow heavy though Luke isn’t.

“Why are you always so good to me, Michael?” Luke asks through a yawn against Michael’s skin.

 _Because I love you,_ he doesn’t say. _Because you’re the best thing to ever happen to me, even if I’m not yours_.

“Because you’re my friend,” he says instead, which is true enough.

“Oh. Well, thank you for being my friend. I dunno what I would've done without you.”

And with that Luke drifts off to sleep, breath ghosting over Michael’s neck as it evens out, making Michael’s heart break into a frenzy in his ribcage at the fake intimacy of it.

He closes his eyes and swallows despite his tightening throat as he settles against the pillow, resigning himself to his fate as he lets the tears finally fall silently, willing sleep to come.

He isn't surprised when it doesn't.


End file.
